Sometimes When we Touch....

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes
And hide.
I want to hold you till I die
Till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides.

The other night the song "Sometimes When we Touch" by Dan Hill was playing on the satellite radio station at the restaurant. I didn't pay much attention to the song because I was busy and because I've heard that sappy  song a zillion times. Andrew, the host at the restaurant, likes to put on the oldies station. Then he'll find me when songs by Heart or Crosby, Stills and Nash, or other groups who now are eligible for discount senior rates play, and he'll say, "remember this song Susanne? Remember? I bet you are the only one who remembers it." And I usually am. Andrew just remembers because his parents once listened to the music. I hear that a lot. My parents used to listen to this. Sigh.

 Anyway, when Dan Hill's song came on the other night, Raquel, one of the servers, who wasn't even born when the song was a hit in 1977, came up to me and pointed upward toward the speakers, "Do you hear that song? What is it?" She started to giggle and sway and then I started to laugh and then Sara, another young server, joined us and we all started to giggle about the lyrics. Then Raquel googled Dan Hill on her phone (when the manager wasn't looking) and thanks to technology we heard the song again this time with a visual of Dan singing it back in 1977. Then we laughed about his 1970s look, the long hair, tight jeans, his pleading voice. The rest of the night we kept saying "sometimes when we touch. The honesty's  too much." We'd start laughing. Okay so it's not very mature, but ya gotta do something when the tips are crummy and the night is long.

Music has always been one of the best parts of working in the restaurant business. It helps drown out the people complaining about overcooked hamburgers, kids crying and drunks getting rowdy. Restaurants of today have all sorts of high tech ways to get  music, often times targeted to the clientele they hope to attract. Years ago music was just selected randomly, on a juke box, by the public. When I started in the restaurant business, people had to dig in their pockets and pay for the music. Juke boxes seem sorta silly now, but they were important in the good old days of the restaurant business.  There was a downfall, though.  Because there were a limited amount of songs on the juke box, there was a tendency to hear the same songs a lot. And I mean a lot.

I worked at a restaurant in Denver where the song Don't It Make my Brown Eyes Blue by Crystal Gayle was played so much on the jute box that when I hear it today I'm transported back to the time in my life when I wore bell bottoms and green eyeshadow and thought I looked cool. I change the channel when it comes on now because, hey, we all have to move on.

 

During the 1980s, I worked in a night club which had live music, and the bands looked like this, all about sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Long hair, surly expressions, raggedy blue jeans, and loud music which makes me wonder why I haven't needed hearing aids yet, but I guess all the rum and cokes I drank while I was bartending helped numb the sound. I heard a lot of music during those years, and most those club bands never become a big success, but maybe it was just all about enjoying the ride. Anyway, back to Dan Hill who sang about love and touching.

Here's Dan Hill today. Yep we all sure have changed. I think I'd like to meet Dan. And I'll explain why with another lyric from his hit.  

 

I'm just another writer

Still trapped within my truth.

 

I can relate Dan. I can relate. Maybe we can help find the way out together. That is, if the honesty isn't too much.